510 days after a wizard cursed the REALM…
Current Version:
The Samhain Elves are known across the Worlds for crafting their bows from human ribs and dipping their arrow tips in hemlock.
But having such a ruthless reputation comes at a cost. Few enemies have been willing to put themselves within arrow-range of an Elf for the past few centuries, giving them little need to practice their shooting skills. Today, when pressed to actually give it a go, most Elves are no longer able to hit the broad side of a barn.
And when you’re only eight inches tall, the broad side of a barn is an entire landscape.
Gloriander has always considered herself a rare exception, at least in theory. As a mathematician, Glory can calculate the perfect angle to hold her arm, apply just the right tension to the string, and account for wind variability, ambient temperature, and the viscosity of the air.
In theory, she should be able to skewer a flea at fifty yards.
In theory.
But to start with, she’d be aiming for an acorn at eighteen inches.
“I gots me camera set to slow-mo,” Shutterbug announces.
Gloriander huffs as if annoyed by the distraction, while secretly grateful for another chance to line up her shot. Birds are twittering in a nearby tree, and she needs to account for how their soundwaves disrupt the air. “What’s a slow-mo?”
“Ah, it’s brilliant. I hits this button and flash, flash, flash! Twenty frames in a second.” The Faery gives her lantern-shaped device a pat. “Jus’ shout before ya shoot.”
“Okay. Lining up the shot. Be the acorn, Gloriander. Be the acorn…”
“Um, hello?”
“Aaah!” shouts Glory, letting go of the bowstring.
“Eeep!” shouts Shutterbug, as the arrow pings off her camera.
“Thunk!” goes the arrow, as it embeds its point in the broad side of a nearby barn.
“Sorry,” says a floating human-sized ghost. “I didn’t mean to distract you.”
“No distraction here.” Glory points to the tiny arrow sticking out of the gigantic barn. “I meant to do that.”
“If ya didn’t mean t’distract us, what did ya mean t’do?” Shutterbug asks. Her tone is harsh, but her annoyance is directed at the nick that Glory’s arrow put in the copper ring at the base of her camera.
“I meant to introduce myself,” says the ghost. “Hello, I’m Formerly Melvin. A lady with a bird-head sent me. I think you’re the Elf and Faery I was meant to find.”
Web3 Draft:
- Listed on OpenSea
- Listed on Rarible
Revision Notes:
To be added.
